


Dragon's Clover (and Other Discoveries)

by FleetofShippyShips



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Burns (as in someone gets burned), Chubby Neville Longbottom, Don't copy to another site, First Kiss, Flirting, Getting Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Herbologist Neville Longbottom, Hiking through woods, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Potioneer Draco Malfoy, Talk of Burn Scars, rare plant gathering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 12:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19132324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetofShippyShips/pseuds/FleetofShippyShips
Summary: Draco needs another rare potion ingredient and, even though he's more than capable of collecting rare plants himself, he still calls on Neville to assist him. It seems like it's just going to be like every other time, Draco flirting ridiculously, Neville brushing it off because it doesn't mean anything, but then Draco lets slip something that changes everything in Neville's eyes.





	Dragon's Clover (and Other Discoveries)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Chubby Neville Mini-fest 2019.
> 
> Prompted by keyflight790 =)  
> Prompt (summarised): Draco's trying to create some new potion, and he calls Neville (they've written a few times, they're friendly but not really friends yet, or they could be besties who knows) and Neville helps him find the rare ingredient but they have to go camping/backpacking/somewhere off the beaten path to find it.

Draco was waiting when Neville’s Portkey deposited him in a field in the middle of nowhere with some woods nearby.

“Ah, you found it, excellent,” Draco said, as he moved forward and helped Neville to his feet. “The Portkey office didn’t know what to do with muggle coordinates at first, I was worried my Portkey might have been a fluke and yours would fail. We should have come together. Now, you know I’m not one for praising muggles, but they do have some genius ideas. These coordinates, far more convenient than the distances from known magical locations we’re still about.”

Neville knocked his hands away when he brushed him down. “Well, you travel so widely now it was bound to happen,” he commented, brushing himself down and trying to ignore the way Draco’s eyes lingered over his body.

They really would have to talk about that at some point. Soon. 

“What was bound to happen?” Draco asked, slipping his hands into the pockets of a ridiculous cardigan. 

Neville had offered to help him with muggle clothes, but the stubborn prat would accept no help. Neville suspected he liked the attention of dressing oddly among muggles. He would no doubt attract stares with what he was wearing today, a hideous, baggy striped cardigan covering Merlin knows what kind of shirt. His legs were sticking out of shorts that only came down to mid thigh and were so tight they were unseemly.

Still, he did so love to be called out on his odd muggle attire.

“Appreciating Muggles. What on earth are you wearing?” Neville asked. “We’re going rambling not to the gym. You’re going to get your legs all cut up and bitten.”

Draco looked down at himself with a grin. “Really? I thought the increased freedom of movement was desirable.” He kicked one leg out to the side and Neville groaned internally. Sometimes he really wished Draco was still that stuck up, poncy snob he’d been in school. He didn’t know what to do with how relaxed and... _ odd _ , Draco was now. Even if they had been friends for months. Even if it did make Draco a lot of fun to be around. “In any case, I stopped over at a muggle town nearby for supplies and I quite enjoyed the ogling. You know what I say, if you have a fantastic arse, you have to show it off.”

Neville bit back a groan as Draco looked him over again.

“You could really do with learning that lesson you know,” Draco said with a sniff. “Hiding those meaty thighs of yours should be a crime.”

Heat flooded Neville’s face. “Can you not call them  _ meaty? _ I mean,  _ really _ , Draco. I’m not a prized ham!”

Draco shrugged. “Hey, do you remember when we went to, where was it, for that boggy plant? The locals looked like they wanted to strip you naked and worship you. They rather liked your thighs too. Well, they liked your everything, but I certainly heard mutterings about your thighs.”

Neville closed his eyes in a silent prayer for the strength to survive Draco’s ridiculousness. “Well, I imagine they’d never seen a fat person before,” he said. “They were all like twigs.”

He didn’t have to look at Draco to know he was already bristling, like a porcupine. He never could stand Neville calling himself fat. Ever since they’d started spending more time together outside of the supplier-potioneer relationship, he’d been on a vendetta against any negative thought or word Neville might have about himself. Even when Neville insisted he was being factual,  _ not _ self-deprecating.

“Let’s press on, shall we?” Neville said, looking around. “Dragon’s Clover grows near streams. You’re sure it’s in this area?”

Draco made a displeased sound, but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he picked up his satchel, slung it over his shoulder, stepped close and, through a hand on Neville’s lower back just below the bottom of his backpack, guided him in a different direction than the one he was facing. 

“This way. There’s been anecdotal evidence that it’s in those woods. I’m surprised you don’t know.”

Neville considered knocking his hand away, but then decided against it. He’d always found a hand on his lower back to be a comforting gesture, even if came from someone like Draco. And he couldn’t deny he enjoyed the possessiveness of the gesture, just a little. He’d caused a fuss the last time Draco had done it in public, once they were alone again, but really, that bloke who’d been eyeing him up had given him bad vibes, so he’d appreciated the rescue.

“I know you think I’m the best Herbologist in the world, but I really can’t keep up with  _ every _ stray rumour about rare plants.”

Draco lifted his chin as he looked at him, a gesture that was familiar from school. “Well you should,” he said shortly. “You’re my supplier for all things rare and difficult to obtain.”

Neville almost laughed. Maybe once, but now Draco came with him every time he went hunting down his latest demand, and he often knew more about it than Neville did. It had been painfully obvious for a long time now that Draco was more than capable of hunting down and harvesting rare herbological potion ingredients himself.

Neville just hadn’t found the courage to say anything about it yet because then he’d have to address the reason Draco kept dragging him along. He wasn’t quite ready to find out if Draco’s obvious interest in him was merely physical or if it was something more.

Just like he wasn’t ready to admit he was rather fond of the silly prat in a way that had long since surpassed their odd friendship.

Just like he was nowhere near ready to admit to Draco, if it came to it, that he had absolutely no experience with anyone and was bound to be an utter disappointment in that regard.

Draco’s hand slipped away from his back as they reached the beginning of the woods nearby. Neville tried not to miss it. 

Draco put his hands on his hips, looking utterly ridiculous in his muggle outfit.

“Right then, if we move fast we can be done before lunch,” he said boldly. He gestured off in a seemingly random direction. He did have a frankly alarmingly good sense of direction, but he somehow managed to make it look like he didn’t. Neville was always worried Draco was going to get them lost, even though he never did. “I studied some muggle maps of the area. There’s a stream off that way, once we reach it, we follow it until we find some Dragon’s Clover.”

Neville looked around. “How muggle is this area? Are we likely to encounter company?”

Draco shrugged. “Hard to say, we’re on some kind of public parkland or such. The muggles in town seemed to suggest it was a common area for camping and whatnot.”

“Best limit our use of magic then,” Neville said with a sigh. “I’m surprised there’s not more of a fuss about the Dragon’s Clover in that case. It’s not exactly subtle.”

They started into the woods and Draco made a wild gesture with his hands as he steamed ahead. “Well, you know muggles. They’re so sceptical of magic they really can explain away everything. Anyone who talks about a blood red clover that spontaneously bursts into flames is just labelled a drunkard whose testimony cannot be relied upon. The Ministry obviously hasn’t caught wind of it yet.”

“Convenient,” Neville muttered, trying and failing not to look at Draco’s arse in those tight shorts when he pulled ahead of him.

He really did have a fantastic arse.

***

When they reached the stream, Draco sat down on the bank with a loud sigh, pulling off his boots and socks and dipping his feet into the water.

Neville sat down cross-legged near him and pulled his water bottle out of his bag. “What are you making that needs Dragon’s Clover anyway?” he asked before taking several gulps. It was a warm day and he was starting to think he should have worn shorts too.

Although, Draco’s pasty legs were already covered in angry red scratches from the undergrowth. He’d complained about bugs too, though he refused to transfigure his shorts into something more appropriate. Neville had learned a long time ago from Harry and Ron to just leave stubborn people to their fate.

And Draco was as stubborn as any Gryffindor.

Draco took out his own bottle and shrugged. “Working on a new salve for burns.”

Neville gaped at him. “We’re out here for that? There are already  _ dozens _ of—”

“But nothing that can reduce the scarring from third degree burns, or worse,” Draco interrupted. “All the current potions and salves only  _ heal _ burns that bad, the patients are still left with extensive burn scars. And there’s nothing currently available that can reduce those scars after the fact. I intend to make something that can.”

Neville frowned at him. “This is about Goyle,” he realised.

He knew he was right when Draco looked away from him and shrugged. “It’s about a lot of people living with reminders of horrific encounters with fire.”

For a few moments, Neville didn’t push, he sipped from his bottle and considered his words. Draco had always had a problem with fire, even though it had never stopped him from being near it or using it. He’d never told Neville the details, even though Neville knew it had something to do with the fire in the Room of Requirement that Harry had mentioned once or twice. He could have asked Harry more about it, but then, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He’d seen Goyle’s scars one time he’d been at Draco’s when he’d delivered some ingredients.

He also knew Draco had some burn scars on his right arm, even if he kept them covered to the point Neville kept forgetting about them until he caught a rare glimpse of them again. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had managed to get out of that fire without scars, and sometimes he wondered if they never talked of the fire because of how badly burned Goyle had been. It can’t have been pleasant to witness. Certainly not to remember.

“Last month you were working on a non-addictive potion for dreamless sleep,” he said slowly. “Now something to remove burn scars.”

Draco turned to him and tilted his chin up in defiance. “It’s not just my friends that would benefit. My motivations for working on these potions do not diminish the good they will do.”

“I didn’t say that,” Neville pointed out. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Oh, trust me, if I was putting words in your mouth it wouldn’t be those ones,” Draco muttered, kicking his feet in the water.

For a moment, Neville seriously considered asking him what words he would choose. But then that might lead to a conversation he knew they needed but one he still just wasn’t quite ready for.

“Shall we head upstream?” Neville asked, digging around in his pack for something to snack on.

Draco hummed. “You know, when we find it, I don’t want you to harvest only the parts useful for potions. I want you to harvest some for transplanting so I have a steady supply.”

Neville looked up with a frown. “You want me to grow it? They’re high yield and easily preserved plants. If we find a decent patch it’ll give you more than enough for months of experimentation.”

Draco pulled his feet from the water and retrieved his wand from his satchel, looking around briefly before drying his feet. He didn’t look at Neville while he put his socks and boots back on, and Neville looked away as well. He knew Draco well enough now to know when he was about to say something that would make Neville uncomfortable in a serious way, rather than the usual silly ways.

“Dragon’s Clover has mind healing properties as well,” Draco finally said, stealing the breath from Neville’s lungs. “But mind healing potions...they’re tricky things. You can’t anticipate how much of each individual ingredient you’ll need. Or even how long it may take to develop a functioning potion. You need a reliable and steady supply of ingredients.”

Neville looked back at him just as Draco looked up. He looked uncomfortable. It was the least carefree and ridiculous Neville had seen him in months. If he had played it off, Neville might have ignored the turning of his thoughts, but Draco looked serious and Neville started thinking.

Each rare plant they’d tracked down, each one Draco had asked him to start growing instead of only harvesting, he’d explained them all away for this and that potion and Neville had never questioned it. But now that he thought about them, most of them had mind healing properties as well as what Draco said he was using them for.

“We should get on,” Draco said abruptly, standing up and shouldering his bag again. “I did bring supplies and equipment for an overnight stay, but I’d rather not have to use them.”

Neville opened his mouth to ask how long he’d been working on mind healing potions, but Draco’s usual free and loose posture had changed to something tight and defensive. It was like looking at a ghost from the past, from that day he’d first turned up at Neville’s door to ask him if he’d consider supplying herbological potions ingredients to him, since no one else would so soon after the war. Neville hadn’t seen him that tense and unsure of himself since.

“Lead the way then,” Neville said, hauling himself to his feet. “Unless you want me to take over breaking through all the stuff that’s turning your legs red.”

Draco snorted and his posture loosened again. “And deny you the privilege of ogling my arse? Ha!”

It occurred to Neville, as Draco started following the stream, that he should deny he was doing that. But then, Draco was probably only joking, and any denial would be like a neon sign admitting he was doing exactly that.

“You are  _ ridiculous _ ,” he settled on, slipping his backpack back on and trudging after him.

***

It wasn’t difficult to spot the Dragon’s Clover. Neville was considering calling for a break so he could eat something when he spied it. Across the other side of the stream, a flash of red in the corner of his eye. When he turned, it was obvious. The area around it was cleared, even though there were no signs it had been burning recently.

“Found some,” he said, nearing the edge of the stream and looking over. It was growing in a large clump. 

Draco joined him and then leaned against him. “Of course it’s on the other side,” he muttered. “How deep do you think the stream is? I could levitate you over, then you could do the same to me.”

The day had only grown hotter as they’d stomped through the woods, and Neville thought wading through what looked like lovely cold water would be just the thing. He stepped away from Draco and slipped off his backpack to drop it by his feet.

“I’m going to wade across,” he said. “Shouldn’t risk levitating anyway, there might be muggles about.”

“Then how do you propose you get your bag over,” Draco said, watching as Neville began to take his shoes and socks off.

“A levitating bag can be easily explained as a thrown bag, if it’s fast enough,” Neville said, moving on to his shirt. He’d shed his jumper within five minutes of moving through the woods, he couldn’t believe Draco was still bundled up in his cardigan.

No response was forthcoming, and Neville felt heat rush to his face. Draco would be watching him strip down. He didn’t even need to check. It wouldn’t be the first time. At least now he knew the staring was appreciative, not judgemental. Things had been awkward when he’d thought Draco was judging him for his weight. Now it was just awkward because the attraction was hanging between them and neither of them ever said a word about it.

“You stay over here then, I’ll do all the work,” he huffed, probably for the best if he’d only be in his pants the whole time.

Draco scoffed loudly and Neville heard his bag hit the ground. “Surely you know me well enough by now to know I’m not above a little splashing around in a stream? I’d never have hunted down half the rare ingredients for my potions that I have if I turned my nose up at such things. Remember, I once waded through a muddy bog to get spines off that bog lizard, I forget it’s name. Nasty little creatures. Hagrid would love them, silly oaf.”

Neville glanced over as he pushed down his trousers. Draco only took off his boots, socks, and cardigan. He was wearing a regular t-shirt underneath, plain and no shocking imagery or words like he normally liked to wear around muggles.

The burns scars on his right arm were as attention-grabbing as the Dark Mark on his left. Neither as shocking as the scars Neville knew cut across Draco’s chest. He’d only seen them once, and he’d never managed to the get the story out of him. 

Draco must have been thinking of them too. His hands hesitated at the bottom of his shirt, and he looked over to catch Neville staring.

Not wanting to make things awkward or tense, Neville retrieved his wand from his backpack and quickly send the pack flying across the stream to land on the other side.

“You know, I bet you could have thrown it the same distance,” Draco said shrewdly. “And people say  _ I  _ can’t live without magic.”

Neville shook his head and didn’t bother responding. Draco’s fingers were still toying with the hem of his shirt and Neville wasn’t sure what to say. It was easier to slide into the stream and start wading across.

The water was cool. As he waded across, he dunked his head under as soon as it was deep enough. When he resurfaced and looked back, Draco had stripped to just his ridiculous little shorts. The scars on his chest were still red as if they were new, and Neville had to forcefully avert his eyes.

Draco splashed into the water soon after sending his bag sailing over the stream. “Oh, that’s nice,” he said. 

Neville hummed and turned back. It got deep in the middle, deep enough that his feet lost the bottom, but then it quickly became shallow again and he was at the other side. He hauled himself out and tried not to think about Draco staring at his backside. 

There was a wolf whistle from behind him and Neville resisted the urge to flip him off. 

It really was quite ridiculous that neither of them ever said anything about Draco’s obvious flirtations and Neville’s refusal to acknowledge them, beyond the occasional frustration over Draco’s choice of words at least.

_ Meaty _ thighs, indeed.

A physical interest didn’t guarantee an emotional one and Neville had long since come to know he was only interested in the former if it came with the latter. He didn’t need experience to know that.

He should say something to Draco about it. In fact, he felt the urge more keenly now that he knew Draco was, and probably had been for a while, researching mind healing potions. Neville had only talked about his parents once around Draco, but he’d obviously listened well to his complaints about the lack of progress in the field of mind healing.

It was going to eat away at him, wondering if Draco was just being a good friend or if it went deeper than that, if it gave more meaning to his flirtations. If his desire to soothe that old hurt of Neville’s by producing something that could help his parents might come from a rather more serious interest in Neville’s happiness than mere friendship.

“I might just stay here for a while,” Draco called out.

Neville turned to see him treading water in the middle of the stream. He rolled his eyes at him and retrieved his bag.

“Suit yourself,” he said, pulling out and arranging the various containers he’d already prepared for containing Dragon’s Clover.

It wasn’t hard to collect, as long as one paid attention to it to catch the warning signs of its tendency to self-combust.

In theory, that wasn’t difficult, but in practice...

Halfway through harvesting leaves and stems, Neville turned to pick up a new collection jar with his free hand and in the time it took to turn around, the plant burst into flame.

With a loud cry, he scrambled back away from it, but not fast enough. Barely before he could look at his hand, Draco was beside him, dripping wet and rummaging through his bag.

“Don’t panic, I came prepared,” he was saying, as he pulled out a pot of salve and opened it.

Neville grimaced and looked at his hand. Already the skin over his palm, thumb and first two fingers was red and blistering. The pain was excruciating.

“Trust you to not pay attention and set yourself on fire,” Draco muttered angrily as he set the pot down and reached for Neville’s hand. “You utter idiot, look what you’ve done to yourself!”

Neville bit down on his lip as Draco gently took his hand and started applying the salve. He didn’t manage to silence himself. He closed his eyes and let himself groan and sob through the pain as Draco spread the thick, cool substance over the surface of the burns. It burned worse than the fire.

“Master Herbologist indeed,” Draco tutted. “Why aren’t you wearing dragon hide gloves? You utter, incompetent,  _ imbecile _ ! I know you have a pair. I told you to bring them!”

For all that he was spitting the words at him, Draco’s touch was careful and gentle. The salve began to work at once, a cooling sensation seeping into Neville’s skin and taking the bite out of the burns.

Within a matter of minutes, the pain was gone completely and it no longer hurt as Draco smoothed more salve over his skin with a gentle, careful touch.

Neville stopped biting his lip and inhaled deeply. The Dragon’s Clover was still burning near them. The fire didn’t consume the plant, and once it stopped burning it would be unharmed. They’d have to wait before harvesting anymore though. In a chain reaction, the entire patch was on fire.

“Are you alright?” Draco asked when Neville still said nothing. “Is the pain gone now?”

A short nod seemed to be all Neville was capable of, as he watched Draco massaged more of the salve into his skin. With the pain gone, and the shock wearing off, it was a soothing, comforting gesture.

“How bad was it?” he asked. “I saw blistering.”

“Second degree, the salve will heal it completely,” Draco said, still gently massaging it into his skin. “Might take a few applications though.”

Neville nodded, looking down at their hands and at the burn scars on Draco’s right arm. It seemed so unbelievable that current magical medicine could do nothing for them. That they hadn’t at the time.

Maybe Draco’s bold declaration that he would do better wasn’t so silly after all.

“You know, it’s rude to stare,” Draco said calmly, applying more salve and rubbing it in. 

Neville couldn’t help but snort at that.

“Really?  _ You’re _ going to tell  _ me _ it’s rude to stare?” he scoffed. “You were wolf-whistling at my arse just minutes ago.”

“That’s your arse, not traumatic scars,” Draco said, but there was no bite to his voice. 

Still, Neville felt chastised. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Just not used to seeing them.”

Draco hummed and Neville didn’t fail to notice that the massaging motion of his fingers extended beyond his burned skin.

The gesture made his mouth grow dry. He struggled to remember how he’d normally react to something like that, now that he was still thinking about Draco’s intentions regarding mind healing potions. The implication, from his posture, that he was doing it for Neville. He wouldn’t have looked so defensive about it if it wasn’t about Neville.

“It’s a fine arse, what can I say?” Draco said, pulling Neville out of his thoughts. “You know my opinion on the matter.”

Neville’s fingers twitched in Draco’s grip. Now was the time to brush it off. Call him ridiculous. Pretend it wasn’t happening.

“Well...only when it comes to my body,” he found himself saying instead, looking down intently at his hand and pretending the heat in his face was from the Dragon’s Clover still burning nearby.

Draco’s touch faltered for a moment, then resumed when Neville didn’t look up. They sat in silence for long enough that Neville decided the answer was indeed only a physical attraction, and was relieved he’d given nothing away about his own, more-than-physical affection.

Then Draco spoke.

“I rather thought you were smarter than that,” he said, sounding, of all things, disappointed. “I’ve done nothing but tell you my high opinion of you for months. Sure, I may have been more obvious about your body, I mean, look at you, but surely you’re not that dense? I don’t actually  _ need _ your help anymore, but I enjoy it. I enjoy spending time with you, even out in the wild.”

Neville chewed his lips and tried to think what to say to that. Tried to think back and see what Draco was saying. It wasn’t so clear, not when everything Draco said sounded like a joke.

“ _ You’re _ the one who is unclear,” Draco added. “ _ You’re  _ the one who acts like there’s nothing there. I’m surprised you’d even bring it up, you’ve been acting like it’s nothing for long enough now, even though you ogle me right back and don’t you dare deny it. What changed?”

There was no way he didn’t know, and Neville huffed and shook his head. “Mind healing potions? Really? I never thought to question you before, but looking back, you’ve been collecting and having me grow ingredients with mind healing properties for months. Why didn’t you  _ say _ anything?”

Draco let his hand go. “And get your hopes up? I’m not  _ cruel _ .”

Neville looked up. Draco had his old defensive posture back. It would be easier to convince himself it was because of the fire still burning beside them, but Draco didn’t even spare it a glance. His attention was fixed on Neville.

“So you are doing it for me then?”

Draco’s expression softened. “Of course, but that doesn’t mean any successful potions I make,  _ if _ I manage to make some, wouldn’t be helpful for everyone. Intention doesn’t matter if the result benefits all.”

There was definitely an argument about that, but Neville could barely think past Draco actually admitting he was doing it for Neville. After Neville had only mentioned his parents  _ once _ . And months ago at that. 

“Well, I suppose you work on things for your friends all the time, I should have expected it,” he said carefully. 

Draco scoffed and ran his hands through his hair. “If that’s what you want it to be, then sure. I’m doing it just because we’re friends. Nothing more. That’s all it needs to be.”

Neville found his feet and Draco scrambled to follow him, looking wary, like Neville might stomp off into the woods in just his pants and leave him there.

They were both in just their pants. Well, Neville was, and Draco had those tiny shorts on that may as well  _ be _ pants. The timing was utterly ridiculous. Neville should have kept his mouth shut, but now that it had finally been addressed he couldn’t. 

Not when his chest felt so full he might explode, because Draco was trying to heal his parents. And it might never happen, but if it did, if anyone could make a potion to reverse the damage, it would be Draco.

“What if I don’t want it to be just that?” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as if that could contain everything within it.

Draco’s expression had twisted into something disdainful as he’d started talking, but then crumbled into shock by the end. Like he had expected Neville to say something cruel, even though he surely knew better by now.

For a few moments, Draco searched his expression, his own becoming something calculating. Neville let him have it. It gave him time to try and figure out the things he’d always brushed away. If there was anyone he would want to try for a relationship with, it would be Draco.

For all that he was annoying, he also was brilliant company. He was as passionate about plants as Neville was, even if only for those useful in potions. He went collecting with Neville, and it was more enjoyable than going alone, as he’d once preferred. They might work. It was worth trying, even if he’d been putting off thinking about it for a while now.

Draco had answered his question, the one holding him up. It wasn’t just physical for Draco, even if he hadn’t said it plainly yet. Neville could read between the lines, even if he’d clearly missed it before now.

“Then after we finish harvesting this and you sort out the transplanting, I’m taking you out for dinner,” Draco said decisively.

Neville stared at him. “Just like that?”

“What did you expect?” Draco asked incredulously. “I’ve wanted this for months. Surely you’ve figured that out by now? You’re not stupid. If this is a self-esteem thing, then I am more than happy to talk,  _ at length _ , of all the reasons why yes, I am absolutely interested in more than friendship with you, Neville Longbottom, and it’s not just about my obvious appreciation for your physical form.”

“No, I’m fine not hearing that,” Neville muttered, his face already hot just imagining it. He’d grown used to Draco’s flirtations, but he wasn’t sure he’d handle other compliments well. It had taken a while to realised Draco hadn’t meant it sarcastically all the times he’d praised Neville’s competency as a Herbologist. But he still felt awkward hearing it.

“So, dinner then?” Draco asked, stepping closer to him.

“Nowhere too fancy,” Neville said, trying not to think about their state of undress. “If you’re really sure.”

Draco hummed and then reached for his hand. He checked the burn and then glanced at Neville’s face. “I’m sure. I mean, I would kiss you right now, but I’m worried the shock might actually kill you.”

Neville floundered for a response as Draco started massaging his hand again. The intimacy of the gesture was not lost on him. The pain was gone and most of the burn had healed. It would be a few more hours before more salve would be effective. Draco was just touching him because he wanted to.

“I’m not  _ that _ —”

“It’s not an insult,” Draco said, smiling at him. “But do correct me. If you don’t want to take this slow, plant one on me. I feel like I’m ahead of you on this so it’s only fair to let you set the pace.”

“ _ Plant _ one on you?” Neville snorted. “Really?”

Draco’s smile turned into a grin. “What? I rather thought that was a good one. You need to learn to appreciate my comedic timing.”

Neville shook his head at him. He looked down at where Draco was till touching his hand. He looked back up, at his mouth. 

“I haven’t kissed anyone before,” he blurted out before he could chicken out. “You should probably know that.”

With a dismissive gesture with his free hand, Draco didn’t seem to care at all. “I’ll leave the timing of that to you then.”

Beside them, the fire started to die down and then vanish. The only evidence the Dragon’s Clover had burned at all was some scorched grass around it, and the burn on Neville’s hand.

“Excellent,” Draco said, letting Neville go and digging in his pack. He slapped some gloves against Neville’s chest a moment later and Neville scrambled to grab them as Draco let them go. “Let’s not get burned this time.”

He pulled on his own pair and set to work as if they hadn’t just had such an important conversation. Oddly, Neville found that easier to deal with than if he had kept on about it. He joined him on the ground and set about collecting a couple of specimens for transplanting.

Neville looked across the patch of clover and saw Draco was smiling to himself while he put leaves into a jar. It wasn’t smug at all. It was soft, almost secretive.

Without stopping to think, Neville reached across, curling a hand around the back of Draco’s neck and pulling him closer to press their lips together. He released him just as fast, his face burning.

Draco stared at him. “ _ Really _ ? Over the top of a plant that can  _ spontaneously burst into flames _ ? Maybe I shouldn’t have left the timing to you after all. Who knew you were such a daredevil?”

Neville looked down and cringed. He’d forgotten, for a moment. “Oh.”

Draco snorted. “‘Oh’ he says. Bloody hell, I didn’t need the threat of sudden fire to make that exciting. I’m already giddy enough, thanks.”

“ _ Giddy _ ?”

Draco made a dismissive gesture and turned back to his collecting. His cheeks were pink and Neville stared at him.

“I’m not above getting giddy,  _ honestly _ ,” Draco muttered. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for months, I probably would have swooned if you’d done that at any other moment than when we’re next to bloody  _ Dragon’s Clover _ .”

“ _ Swooned _ ?”

“What are you, a parrot now?” Draco huffed. “Get collecting so I can take you out for dinner. And it will be somewhere fancy now, since you’re being a prat about this.  _ Honestly _ .”

Neville shook his head. Draco’s posture was getting defensive again.

“You’re not the only one who might swoon,” he said quietly, his face hot. “Touch my hand again like that and I’ll probably get giddy.”

Draco glanced up at him, looking surprised. “Really? You hide it so well. That’s not fair.”

Neville shrugged. “I didn’t want you to know if it was only physical for you. I’m not interested in something only physical. I would have brought it up sooner if I’d known you wanted more than that.”

“So...there’s definitely something there then?” Draco asked. “On your end?”

It seemed like such a stupid question until Neville thought back and realised he hadn’t actually said anything plain himself. It was easier now, knowing Draco was  _ swooning _ over him.

“Yeah,” Neville said softly. “Definitely. For a while now.”

Draco smiled down at his collection jar. “Well, alright then.”

Neville snorted. “That’s it? Just like that? No  _ swooning _ ?”

“Neville, please, we’re still sitting next to  _ Dragon’s Clover.  _ Time and place.”

It still seemed beyond belief, Draco  _ swooning _ . But now that he’d mentioned it, Neville found himself itching to see it. He’d have to try and do something surprising and romantic later, when Draco wouldn’t expect it.

“Dinner then,” he said decisively. 

Draco looked up with a soft smile. “Dinner then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaah, so I really rushed this, I hope it's still enjoyable. I thought I'd missed the fest this year but then found out there was a week left and tried to write something really fast XD 
> 
> *Please note that this is finished, please do not ask me to write more or otherwise mention 'sequels'.


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